Texas Temptation
Page 55
“I’m in love with him, Jack. If he asks me to stay, I will.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“I don’t know. That art gallery is going to display my work. Maybe I’ll stick around anyway, see where that leads. Pedro is more than capable of handling the restaurant. I hired his girlfriend as a manager, and she’s great so far.”
“Your family is here, Emily Kate. You can’t move halfway across the country for some guy. You don’t even know if he feels the same way.”
“I have to try, Jack. You know I have to.”
Jack sighed and pulled something out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand. She looked down. It was a man’s wallet. “What’s this?”
“Rikeland’s wallet. We retrieved it. He still needs to cancel his credit cards, if he hasn’t already, and whatever cash was in there is gone. But his ID and pictures and stuff are all still in it.”
She accepted the wallet and stared at it, pausing for a moment before flinging her arms around her brother’s neck and squeezing tightly. “Thank you, Jack. I love you.” She kissed his cheek and released him so she could grab the handle to the cat carrier.
• • •
“If you hurt her, I’ll personally come up there and break your legs.”
“Well, hello to you, too, Jack. How’s the weather down south?” Connor asked, feigning politeness.
“Just don’t hurt her.”
The call had come the day before, the first one he’d been able to receive since he dropped his phone into a pot of gazpacho and it had quit working. He’d been desperate for it to dry out, because he was an idiot and hadn’t memorized Emily Kate’s phone number, so he’d been unable to call her for the past three days.
But that was okay, because soon, very soon, he would see her in person. Every day, every night, for the rest of his life. He couldn’t wait to tell her how much he loved her. It seemed every time he tried, something happened and he was interrupted before he could get the words out. And for the past week, while he’d wrapped up training Oliver’s new chef and arranged to sublet his apartment, he’d deliberately avoided saying it. When he told her for the first time, he wanted it to be in person. He wanted to see her face, to kiss her lips after uttering the heartfelt phrase.
He couldn’t wait to get to Texas.
When the knock sounded on the door, he assumed it was Greg, coming to take possession of the apartment. Connor’s timing on his decision to move to Texas had been perfect, as Greg had been in the market for a new place, and according to him, he hated house hunting.
When he opened the door, he was bowled over by the sight of Emily Kate standing on the threshold, a weeks’ worth of luggage parked next to her, a cat carrier clutched in her hand.
“What are you doing here?”
Her cheeks pinked in that adorable way they always did when she was nervous about something.
“I, uh, I ... ConnorIloveyou.” She said the words in a rush so they jumbled all together, and it took him a moment to comprehend what exactly she’d said.
“You do?” Why was he suddenly struck dumb? This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Hadn’t he planned to do exactly the same thing? Hadn’t he planned to show up on her doorstep, to tell her he loved her, to ask if he could become a permanent fixture in her life?
His dreams were in northeast Texas, with a hot blond with feisty curly hair, who owned the best damn Cajun restaurant in the state. It was the best damn Cajun restaurant because the executive chef happened to be one of the best in the country. He didn’t need fame and fortune to believe that. Not anymore. So long as he had Emily Kate, his life was complete.
She nodded vigorously. “I left Pedro in charge of the restaurant. Marjory said she’s talked a local art gallery into displaying my work and—”
“What? She’s taking credit for that? I’m the one who got your work displayed, not Marjory.”
“You ... you did?”
“Of course I did. You’re a brilliant artist, Emily Kate. You should have been discovered a long time ago.”
“Oh. So I guess I really am moving to Detroit.” She paused. “Wait. Why is there a pile of luggage sitting here by the door?”
He chuckled and pulled her into his arms. He rested his chin on her head and said, “You aren’t moving to Detroit, Emily Kate. I’m moving to Uncertain.”
She pushed away so she could look up into his face. “What?”
He smiled and nodded. “I was just getting everything wrapped up here, and then I was literally about to head down to my truck to load it up and drive south. I was sort of hoping I could talk you into letting me move in with you. Do you think we’ll be able to tolerate living and working together?”
“Oh.” She made a disbelieving squeaking noise. It was utterly adorable.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded, staring at him with wide eyes.
“Good. Let’s get going.”
Instead of leaving, however, Emily Kate suddenly dove at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. She kissed him, her lips slanted over his, her tongue thrusting into his mouth, demanding his come out and play. Connor was helpless to resist. He dropped to his knees right there in the foyer, pulling her down with him.
Emily Kate straddled his hips, grabbed his shirt, and jerked it up, trying to tug it over his head. A tearing noise rent the air and the fabric gave away under her hands. “Hang on, let me—”
She was a woman on a mission, not that Connor minded. Once the shredded T-shirt was out of her way, she gently scraped her nails up his chest, then down again to trail along the waistline of his shorts, dropping her head and licking a flat, brown nipple at the same time. Connor forgot all else, even the complaining cat in the carrier next to his head, as she pulled his focus fully and entirely onto her and what she was doing to his body … although not before he wondered how the hell he had managed to stay away for a full week and vowed to never, ever do that again.
Her fingers danced along his throbbing erection. His hips bucked of their own accord. He pressed his palms to the cool, wood floor and gritted his teeth, fighting an internal battle over whether he should let her continue with the torment or flip her onto her back and rip her shorts and panties off so he could mindlessly plunge into her until he found his release. His mind, surprisingly capable of rational thought, tried to recall where he’d packed the box of condoms.
“Suitcase,” he managed to say in a strangled voice.
“I need you,” she replied, and slipped her hand into his shorts, where she gripped his dick and stroked. He dropped his head back against the floor with a thud, closed his eyes, and let her do whatever the hell she wanted. He loved Emily Kate when she let him have control, and there was no doubt he loved her when she decided to take the reins. Just as he’d determined when they first met, the woman was damn near perfect. Hell, there was no damn near about it.
He opened his eyes when he felt her hand pull away. She ground her pelvis against him while she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, gradually revealing a lacy, black bra. As soon as she pulled the shirt off her shoulders and dropped it to the floor, he reached up, cupped her breasts, and massaged. The nipples hardened underneath the satin and lace. Impatiently, he reached around her back and unhooked the clasp, freeing those beautiful mounds from the contraption. Her head fell back and her eyes fluttered closed. Connor sat up, one hand on her back, holding her in his lap, the other playing with her right breast while he latched his mouth onto the left one and suckled, hard. Her noises of pleasure told him she was happy to give over control, which was good, because he didn’t think he would have been able to handle much more of her ministrations without losing it all over himself and possibly the floor. And with Greg on his way over—
Greg walked into the apartment.
“Whoa,” he said after he came to an abrupt halt just inside the door. “Guess she said yes,” he said with a chuckle as a red-faced Emily Kate and a scowling Connor scrambled to gather their dis
carded clothing. Greg simply stood there and enjoyed their discomfort.
“Next time, wait until you’re at your own house,” he advised.
Connor extracted a fresh shirt from one of his suitcases and glanced at Emily Kate. “Ready to go home?”
“Home?”
“Yeah. Well, after we check into the nearest hotel so we can finish what we just started. And then we have a restaurant to run. Or rather, I have a restaurant to run. You have some painting to do. Anna thinks your stuff is going to sell like hotcakes. You’re going to have to paint pretty regularly to keep up with her customers.”
“Oh, Connor. You really do love me.”
He ignored the gagging noise coming from Greg, and focused on the love of his life, his future, instead. “I really do,” he assured her, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close so he could kiss the top of her head. A mournful yowl burst from the cat carrier.
“I think I’ve traumatized Blanco,” Emily Kate said, crouching and peering through the grates at the angry cat within. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to put him right back into the car again.”
“Greg could use the company,” Connor suggested. He glanced at his new friend. “We’ll come back and pick him up in a couple months.”
Greg looked utterly scandalized. “You aren’t leaving that cat here.”
Connor chuckled and used his arm around her shoulders to guide Emily Kate toward the door. “Come on, love of my life. Let’s go home.”
Chapter 21
Emily Kate watched the silver-haired man pause in the restaurant lobby, so he could study the life-sized portrait titled The Chef. Connor claimed to hate it, but she knew her fiancé well enough to know he was flattered by the attention it generated. Well, that and the national cooking show that had recently featured his now-famous sweet potato and pecan muffins.
The older man finally turned away from the painting and headed toward her. “Is that your chef?”
“Yes. And it isn’t for sale,” she added before he could even ask. Since Connor’s episode had aired on The Food Network, she’d had offers as high as $10,000 for that painting. She knew it was because it was a likeness of Connor, but he insisted it was her talent that caused grown women to squeal when they stepped into the restaurant and spotted the picture.
“What about the chef himself?”
“What?” she asked, startled by his response. She blinked rapidly and then narrowed her eyes as recognition dawned. “Oliver Yosman.”
Oliver preened. “I see my reputation precedes me.”
“You could say that.”
“I’d like to have a word with Connor, if he’s available.”
Emily glanced down at the reservation book laying open on the hostess stand and then looked up at the groupings of patrons, patiently waiting for the next available table. Visions of the night Pierre had walked out on her to go off to Vegas to marry Shelby danced in her mind. Even as she dreaded a repeat—although in this case, Connor’s girlfriend was his desire to be the executive chef in a world-renown restaurant—she knew she could not deny him this opportunity.
“I’ll go check to see if he has a few minutes to talk to you.” She turned away from the lobby and let out a gusty sigh, her shoulders slumping as she headed through the restaurant toward the kitchen.
Connor stood watching over Pedro’s shoulder as that man tried to perfect his updated sweet potato and pecan muffin recipe. He turned his head when Emily Kate pushed through the swinging kitchen doors and then immediately strode over to greet her halfway into the room. As if it were the most natural greeting in the world, he swept her into his arms, then dipped her over his arm before kissing her senseless. When he was done, she pushed him away and straightened her unruly hair.
“Connor, I keep telling you that sort of thing is going to undermine our respect from the staff.”
Pedro snorted and Connor laughed.
“Sweetheart, if I didn’t greet you like that, the staff would begin to wonder.”
She rolled her eyes, even though she felt ridiculously pleased by both his greeting and his comment. “Connor, there’s a special guest in the restaurant tonight.”
“There’s a special guest every night,” he replied. “At least since we were featured on that show on The Food Network.”
“I give up,” Pedro said with disgust in his voice. He tossed the large spoon to the side and shook his head. “I’m never going to figure out what the hell you did to make that recipe so damn good.” He stalked to the grill to resume making dishes he was good at.
Connor laughed and turned back to Emily Kate. “Who is it tonight?”
“Oliver.”
Connor blanched. “Oliver? As in Oliver’s Restaurant?” His gaze darted to the swinging door and back to her face several times, as if he were torn between peeking through the round window and running the other way.
Emily Kate nodded and reached out, squeezed his bicep. “Yes and yes. He’d like to speak with you, if you have time.”
“I should refuse to see him.”
Emily Kate wholeheartedly agreed, but she kept her opinion to herself.
“I can’t. I’m too damn curious about what he wants.”
“I understand. Should I bring him back here?”
Connor paused, presumably debating his options. Then he snapped his fingers and said, “No. I’ll take him down to the dock. He has a crazy fear of bugs. The mosquitoes will drive him nuts.”
Emily Kate smiled, but quickly sobered. “If he asks you to go back to Detroit ...”
“You think he will?” Connor sounded dubious. Yes, Emily Kate was utterly confident that was why the man had come calling.
“If he does ... I’ll go with you.”
He pulled her into his arms and held her there, while he rested his chin on her head. She felt his smile. “You’d leave all this behind, for me?”
“I’d do anything for you, Connor.”
He pulled away and then cupped her face with his hands. “I love you, Emily Kate.”
“I love you too, Connor.”
He turned away and began barking orders at his kitchen staff, and Emily Kate retreated to the front of the house to let Oliver know Connor would be out momentarily.
• • •
Much, much later that evening, they lay side by side in bed. “So are we moving to Detroit?” Emily Kate asked as Connor reached over and twined his fingers with her own.
“Nope.”
“Did he ask?” Connor hadn’t yet informed her as to what transpired during his meeting with his former boss.
“Yes. He also asked for the sweet potato and pecan muffin recipe. I said no to both things.”
Emily Kate rolled onto her side to face him. “How did he take that?”
Connor pulled her close and kissed her. Then he smiled. “He was annoyed, at first. But then he admitted that he’d been in love once, too, and that’s how he ended up in Detroit.”
“His wife? The one you slept with?”
“Nope. Apparently, he left the love of his life to marry his now ex-wife, because he needed her money to start the restaurant.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yep. He figures the fact that she cheated on him—numerous times, by the way—and then ultimately left him for a twenty-five-year-old actor was his punishment for making poor choices.”
“I almost feel sorry for him.”
“Don’t. He has since looked up his old flame, who, as it happens, had recently gone through her own divorce. They are now dating, and he informed me that I wouldn’t stand a chance in hell with her.”
Emily Kate laughed. “Good thing you aren’t on the market.”
“Good thing. He also said that if things don’t work out here, I would always have a place in his restaurant.”
“That’s encouraging,” Emily Kate said dryly.
Connor laughed and kissed her nose. “I told him I would only ever have one boss, for the rest of my life.”
“You make it easy, Emily Kate. Now, come with me into the kitchen. I have a new chocolate cake recipe I want you to sample.”
Sweet Texas Fire
Sweet Texas Secrets, Book 2
Nicole Flockton
Avon, Massachusetts
Copyright © 2016 by Nicole Flockton.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
Published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.
www.crimsonromance.com
ISBN 10: 1-4405-9552-6
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9552-3
eISBN 10: 1-4405-9551-8
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9551-6
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123RF/tspider, © romancenovelcovers.com.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21